formerly JUSTINE'S LAIR OF PULP PULCHRITUDE & BADASS MAMAS
(Where we take delight on the corruption of the innocent)

Friday, August 1, 2008

I fell in love with Amy Amanda Allen...

... as soon as I saw THE RABBIT WHO ATE LAS VEGAS (Episode 7, Season 1, 1983). Although that isn't entirely true. Melinda Culea, who plays Triple A in the cult series The A-Team (1983-1989) is one of those actresses whose screen presence is charged with that kind of sensuality that makes one both want to cuddle and do dirty things to her, irrespectively of which one does first. Although her character, a journalist, was the pivotal element that led the viewer to the A-Team in the two-parter first episode of the series, she wasn't given much to do in the following episodes... that is, besides being pretty eye-candy with a promise of intellectual depth. Not withstanding, her interplay with the other characters (specially with Dwight Schultz's Howling Mad Murdock) is always funny and nice, and it was not gladly that we saw her disappear from the series after only 25 episodes.

So, in truth, I fell in love with Amy Amanda Allen from the start. Who can resist a sexy investigative reporter that follows doggedly a crack commando unit, surviving as soldiers of fortune, to engage them in a foreign mission and than has the gall to blackmail them into accepting her as one of them? Not I, rest assured.

And she was sexy from start of episode one, wearing a pink dress on a Mexican beach, smiling that warm smile of hers, playing at being the all-american sweet-heart. But it wasn't until episode 7 that she got to wear an unforgettable mini-skirt, carried in Face's arms. Man, the way the light played on her stockinged lithe legs... Everything in her was luminous sensuality, from the red suede boots to the dark patch of panties peeking from the shadowed valley of unfulfilled promises between her shapely thighs.

Amy would ware some other mini-skirts and short-dresses on later episodes of the show. Bu you know what they say: there's no love like the first love, and no memory moment carries more magic than that one.

VIEWER BEWARE

The content of this blog may be offensive for non-mature readers, feminists, school-teachers, PoMo pseudo-thinkers and whomever may believe smut can't be a relevant art form. Some of the images displayed therein may arouse this blog's reader's libido and prompt younger viewers to seek the joys of the opposite sex.